Haven Potter and the Slytherin Soulmate
by ArtemisHalestorm
Summary: Harry had a twin sister who was part of a bigger prophecy. One that involves a polar opposite Slytherin soulmate, a girl named Pansy Parkinson. The Dursleys kept Harry, but Haven was sent away. She was adopted by a loving couple and lived her first six years as a happy little girl. Until her powers came and her parents hated her... FULL SUMMARY INSIDE. (Previous chapters edited)
1. The Twins Who Lived

_**Harry Potter Fanfiction**_

 _ **Disclaimer/upfront confession:**_ _I do not have any kind of claim to the Potter universe. Also, I used the actual chapters to outline the story, so that's why it sounds so identical to the books. I changed the book according to the story I'm telling, since having a twin who is also very special will inevitable change history… Kind of._

 **Haven Potter and the Slytherin Soulmate**

Chapter One: The Twins Who Lived

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense. Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion, there was no finer boy anywhere. The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it.

They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, and also a small daughter, but they had never seen the twins. Those kids were another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with children like that.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday, our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.

None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar – a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen – then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive – no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.

But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes – the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older

than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt – these people were obviously collecting for something… yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard yes, their twins, Harry and Haven–"

Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.

He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had twins… Named Harry and Haven. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure of his niece and nephew's names. He'd never even seen them. It might have been Harvey and Hailey. Or Harold and Harper. He wasn't even sure if he heard them correctly. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her – if he'd had a sister like that… but all the same, those people in cloaks…

He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.

"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"

And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.

Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw – and it didn't improve his mood – was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.

"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.

The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.

Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early – it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."

Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er – Petunia, dear – you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.

"No," she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls… shooting stars… and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…"

"So?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.

"Well, I just thought… maybe… it was something to do with… you know… her crowd."

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name _"Potter."_ He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their children – They'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't they?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What's their names again? Howard and Hannah, isn't it?"

"Harry and Haven. Nasty names if you ask me. _Harry_ is so common and _Haven_ sounds like her future is already set to be spent on the streets,"

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did… if it got out that they were related to a pair of – well, he didn't think he could bear it.

The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind… He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on – he yawned and turned over – it couldn't affect them…

How very wrong he was.

Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have

known."

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again – the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no – even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent – I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who _has_ gone–"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense – for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: _Voldemort_." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's

name."

"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, _Voldemort_ , was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too – well – noble to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're _saying_ ," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are – are – that they're – _dead_ ,"

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know… I know…" he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potters' twins, Harry and Haven. But – he couldn't. He couldn't kill those little tots. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill them, Voldemort's power somehow broke – and that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's – it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill little one-year-olds? It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Harry and Haven survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "Haven was found with her brother, holding hands and crying with him. We may never know how they survived such an encounter with the likes of Voldemort."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me _why_ you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry and Haven to their aunt and uncle. They're the only family they have left now."

"You don't mean – you can't mean the people who live here?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore – you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son – I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry and Haven Potter come and live here!"

"It's the best place for them," said Dumbledore firmly. "Harry was Voldemort's first intended victim between the two. He's the one who survived and halted his attacks. Harry, without a doubt, is the same boy spoken about in the prophecy. Living with his muggle relatives is safer than exposing his location in our world. His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him and his sister when their older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand them! Harry will be famous – a legend – I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter Day in the future – there will be books written about Harry, _and_ his sister – every child in our world will know his name!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes – yes, you're right, of course. But how are the Potters getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding the twins underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing them."

"You think it – _wise_ – to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to – what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky – and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild – long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got them, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir – house was almost destroyed, but I got them out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. Harry fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol, but Haven simply enjoyed the ride,"

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep, and a baby girl staring up at them curiously. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over the boy's forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. The girl, however, was perfectly unharmed.

"Is that where..?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well – give them here, Hagrid – we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Harry in his arms while Professor McGonagall took Haven and they both turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"Could I – could I say good-bye to 'em, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss, and did the same with Haven. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it – Lily an' James dead – an' poor little Harry and Haven off ter live with Muggles–"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door, her following moments later. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets. The professor gently laid Haven beside her brother, and then the two went back to Hagrid. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundles; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'd best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall – Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundles of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Harry. Good luck, Haven," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up, arm falling into a hug around his twin. Haven gurgled, wiggling in the blankets and looking around at her surroundings for the strangers that vanished. One of her small hands closed on the letter between her and Harry and she pulled it for it to rest on top of her before falling asleep, not knowing her brother was special, not knowing he was famous and she would one day be too, not knowing they would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that Harry would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley. Harry slept soundly beside his sister, not knowing that the sister he shared a womb with would not be staying long at all… He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter – the boy who lived!" While all the same, paying no mind to the twin that helped the boy survive.


	2. The Vanishing Act

**Chapter Two: The Vanishing Act**

Nearly five years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their niece and nephew on the front step, but only Harry Potter would be staying on Privet Drive. His younger twin sister could have been considered the lucky one. Their cousin Dudley poked and pinched her for only a measly few hours before their aunt and uncle came to a quick decision. Haven would _not_ be sticking around. The Dursley's read the letter and, after the Dursley's got over the shock of the Potters' deaths, they decided taking in two more kids was too much of a change. The letter had only expressed the importance of Harry staying with them, not the girl. So instead, Mrs. Dursley put Haven in Dudley's car seat and drove two towns over to Cecilia's Home for Girls. Petunia thrust the child into the caretaker's arms with a well thought out lie about not being able to care for her, then left just as quickly.

Although Haven Potter's well-being was not at the forefront of the Dursley's minds, the little one could be considered the luckier of the twins. Yes, she was abandoned by the last of her family, but after that day… it wasn't long before the black-haired, green-eyed girl was picked up and hugged by a newlywed couple in their late twenties. Haven was brought to their home where she would spend the next few years being loved by Mr. and Mrs. Clarke.

The Clarke residence was a small, but beautiful white house with a perfectly mowed lawn that was littered with their daughter's outdoor toys. A single tree sapling sat in the center of their yard; underneath, a small girl played with two toy lions. She was giggling to herself and talking for her favorite toys. She wore a pink shirt with slightly dirty overalls – her play clothes – and purple and pink tennis shoes. A few feet away, her mum sat on their wooden steps, reading a novel and glancing up at the girl every few seconds. Haven Potter was now Haven Clarke, happy five-year-old with not a care in the world. Mr. Clarke was at his office job across the town. He would be home in an hour.

Mrs. Clarke craned her head to peer through the screen of her open front door and at the clock on the wall. It was nearly six o'clock.

"Haven, dear. Let's go start dinner," Mrs. Clarke calls to Haven.

She looks up, disappointed. "Oh, alright," She pouts, but obeys. She stands and brushes off some dirt from her clothes before following her mum inside.

"Go wash up, then you can help me with dinner,"

"Okay mummy,"

The Clarke home was very… well, _homely_. It was warm and welcoming with eggshell walls and beige carpeting. Their living room had a yellow, three-seater couch with a brown leather recliner for Mr. Clarke nearby. Across from them was an antique tv stand with their television on it. The Clarkes also happen to be Christian, so they added the beauty of several crosses and Jesus statues, which were in every room in the house.

At the beginning of every meal, the Clarkes would say grace. Every Sunday, they would go to church where Haven felt the happiest with her friends. Kids at her school could be mean, but at church she had loads of friends so she always looked forward to Sundays.

After quickly switching out her overalls for a blue skirt, Haven hurried to the bathroom and stood on her tippy-toes at the sink. She hummed to herself as she washed up for dinner. It was a daily routine, but this time it was different.

"Hmm hmm hm hmmm," Haven was smiling happily, the day's events running through her head. It was the middle of the summer holidays and Mrs. Clarke had taken Haven to the park around noon. She made a new friend, a boy named Peter who's family is new to the neighborhood. Haven was looking down into the sink at her soapy hands, then she looked up and screamed.

In the mirror, right beside her own reflection, was another… A blonde-haired girl that appeared to be around her own age. The image was faded, _see-through_ , but still as clear as day. This reflection was silent, but had looked up as Haven did and screamed too. Now, they stared wide-eyed, mouth open in shock.

"Haven!" Mrs. Clarke came running in and the girl disappeared. "Sweetie, what's wrong?"

Haven's lips trembled as she stared up at her mum. "M – Mum! A girl was in the mirror!" She shouted, pointing at the mirror.

Mrs. Clarke couldn't help but chuckled. "You don't say,"

Haven pouted, recognizing the amused look her mum was giving her. "But mummy, I'm serious,"

Mrs. Clarke came over to look in the mirror. "All I see is a mum with her beautiful daughter,"

"But mum!" Haven whined. "I saw her. She had blonde hair and was wearing pjs!"

Mrs. Clarke only chuckled again. "I'm sure the light is playing tricks on you," She rubbed Haven's back. "Finish washing up so you can help with dinner. We're having spaghetti and meatballs," With that said, she left her daughter who could only squint at the mirror for a glimpse of that girl again. But she had no such luck.

She sighed, thinking that maybe she did imagine it. Rinsing the soap from her hands and drying them on the hand towel, she went to help her mum. An hour later, her dad came home and the Clarkes were all sat around the dinner table holding hands with closed eyes.

Mr. Clarke led them in prayer. "Father, thank you for the meal we are about to share in Your Honor…"

" _It's not funny!"_

Haven's eyes snapped open at the faded sound of a squeaky voice. She looked around at her mum and dad, but their eyes were still closed as her dad said grace. She bit her lip and closed her eyes again, deciding not to mention the voice and instead focused harder on her prayer.

" _She was a ghost! I'm telling the truth!"_

This time Haven gasped and her small fingers tensed around her parents' hands just as Mr. Clark said Amen. They opened their eyes and looked at her.

"Is everything okay Sweetheart?" Mr. Clarke asked.

For only a second, Haven wanted to tell them exactly what she heard. But she decided it was better to keep this to herself, which was hard. She has never kept _anything_ from them before. After all, no six-year-old should be old enough to keep secrets in the first place.

"Nothing daddy, just hiccups I think,"

Her dad didn't think anything of it, but her mum looked at her strangely. First her daughter screamed about a girl in the mirror and now _this_ strange behavior. Finally she shrugged to herself, settling on her little girl just having a weird day. They spent the rest of dinner sharing what they did throughout the day.

When bedtime came around, Haven spent a good five minutes looking into the mirror like it was another room and she was waiting for the occupant to show herself. She quickly looked around outside the bathroom. Her parents weren't nearby, so she went back and leaned closer to her reflection.

"Hello?" She whispered. "Are you there?"

"Haven!" Haven jerked in surprise when her dad suddenly came into the bathroom.

Haven's heart pounded at being scared by her dad, but instead of being mad like his tone had suggested, he was laughing. He hadn't yelled at Haven for trying to talk to a mysterious person in the mirror, he had yelled because she wasn't paying attention and he thought it was funny to surprise her.

"Daddy!" Haven whined.

"Who are you talking to?"

"I thought I saw another girl in the mirror early, but she's gone now,"

Mr. Clarke only smiled, barely blinking at his daughter's statement. She always had a powerful imagination. "Okay, well did you brush your teeth?"

Haven sighed at being shrugged off again. "Yes,"

"You mean it? Let me smell," He bent down to her level.

She rolled her eyes. _She lied a_ few _times about brushing her teeth and now her parents request breath checks._

She opened her mouth and breathed in his face.

"Good girl. Now go to bed. Mum and I will be in to say goodnight soon,"

"Okay," Haven hopped off the stool and went to her room, immediately crawling into her princess themed bed.

It wasn't long before her parents came in and kissed her goodnight, turning on her nightlight and leaving the door cracked open on their way out. Haven rolled onto her side and felt herself slipping into a peaceful sleep.

Little did she know; peaceful sleep was soon going to be hard to come by.

Haven Clarke loved her life. She was never afraid and never disappointed her parents. But at the same time, she feared them. Not directly, and she herself never voiced it – out loud or even inside her own head – but her parents have always showed their disapproval of most people in the neighborhood. The loud kids next door – Haven wasn't allowed to go near them. The cat lady a few doors down who loved kids – simply crazy, forbidden from petting the cats. In fact, she had made a friend or two at school that she really liked, but when they came over and shared that their families weren't religious and rarely attended church – Haven was forced to end their friendship. So Haven felt she was blessed to have her adoring mum and dad, but she also wished they would be more tolerant of people who are different. Different people made life more interesting.

Mr. and Mrs. Clarke have not yet told Haven that she was actually adopted and her last name used to be Potter. If they had, maybe she would have questioned the skinny, small boy that she sees being chased by that kid named Dudley and his gang of little bullies. _Harry Potter_ , she knew him as. Their classes were across from each other at St. Grogory's Primary School. They never spoke, but he always seemed to be getting into trouble and he never played with other kids during recess. He wore oversized clothes and large, round glasses that were held together by scotch tape. The boy had a thin face and knobbly knees; his black hair was unruly and usually covered his forehead. Haven felt a little bad for the boy, but Dudley is scary and the last kid that tried befriending Harry wound up being the gang's main target. So, Haven wisely avoided the kid like everyone else.

 _"Hhaaven… Hhaaven…"_

"Huh!" Haven shot up in her bed, nearly whacking her head against her mum's who fell back in shock.

Haven's heart pounded in her chest. She swallowed hard and looked down at her mum, who was now on her knees beside her bed. "Mummy! You scared me!"

"I'm sorry, Baby. Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?"

It's been three weeks since all this weird stuff has been happening to her, and it hasn't stopped. She's seen the girl in the mirror a couple more times and heard strange whisperings in her ears. She tried to block them out, but was no use.

"No," She answered honestly. "You were just whispering in my ear… It was creepy,"

"Oh," Mrs. Clarke chuckled in amusement. "Well you have to get up Sweetheart. Your friends from church are coming to play today,"

"Okay mummy," She threw her covers off and her mum went to make breakfast.

Haven has two close friends from church. A girl named Tilly Edwards and a boy named William Green. The three of them quickly became best friends while in Sunday school, and soon their parents all became close too.

The doorbell rang an hour later and Haven, fully dressed and belly full, ran to the door and swung it open excitedly. "Tilly!"

A slightly taller, curly haired blonde practically jumped inside and the two girls hugged. "Hi Haven!" She giggled. Tilly was a little older than Haven, already seven and a half years old. She had a pretty, round face and bright blue eyes.

"Haven! Tilly!" The girls faced their friend as William jumped out of his mum's car and jogged to them.

"Hi Will!" They smiled and the three kids hugged each other, making the adults awe over them. William was a short, brown-haired boy only a few days younger than Haven. He was a little overweight and his face was always tinted pink. He was frequently bullied at his and Tilly's school, which is on the other side of town from Haven's, and even by some boys at church. But Tilly and Haven had always stood their ground when it came to being Will's friend because he was a nice boy, unlike the other jerks.

"Let's go to my room," Haven led them in a run to the privacy of her room and shut the door. Their mums stayed in the living room to chat.

Haven wasted no time. "I saw a girl in my mirror," She told them quickly in a hushed voiced.

Of course, Tilly and Will exchanged looks before looking back at Haven and laughing. But Haven fixed them with a stern look of her own that told them she wasn't joking.

"Uhh… Haven," Tilly said delicately, placing a hand on her shoulder and looking into her eyes. "Was it you?"

Haven scowled and slapped her hand away. "No!"

"Okay, okay," William held his hands up in surrender and Tilly took her friend's hands. She pulled her to her bed where the three of them climbed on and sat in a circle.

"So, what happened?" asked Tilly.

Haven took a deep breath before telling them everything from the mirror to the voices at dinner that first night, and nearly every day since then. As expected, Will lost his pink face as her story turned him pale with fear. He was the scaredy-cat of the group, after all.

Tilly, on the otherhand, began to laugh.

"Tilly!" Haven whined at her friend, but couldn't help start giggling at her lack of concern compared to Will – who looked ready to cry to his mum. "It's not funny!" She smacked her shoulder playfully.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Tilly said, getting control of her giggles. "Well, have you seen this – this _girl in the mirror_ lately?"

"Yes. Two days ago, but I haven't actually heard her in a week,"

"Have you watched a scary movie?"

"No, I'm not allowed,"

"Then maybe you were just imagining things,"

"C – C – Can we just p – play now?" William asked, already getting up from the bed. The girls agreed for his sake.

While Haven played with her friends, she completely let go of the events of last night. Tilly was probably right, and Haven didn't want to keep dwelling on something so impossible. But of course, Haven's own existence is because of an impossibility. And her life was about to change completely.

"Hey, that's mine!" Haven tried snatching her favorite toy from William, who had found it in the toy chest, but he was quick in dodging her.

"Oh please, I really like it," He tried reasoning, but kids will be kids and Haven refused.

"No, it's my favorite," She tried to get it again, but failed again.

"But I'm a guest!" Will argued.

"Give it to me!" Haven kept at it. The toy was one of her lions, the special one with a golden mane.

"No!"

"Guys!" Tilly shouted. She didn't want them to fight.

"Now!" Then, William screamed in shock as the lion disappeared from his hand and into Haven's.

All three of them froze, eyes wide and two sets of eyes watered with confusion. _Haven and Will's_. Tilly looked between her two friends, back and forth. Not being the one involved, she was completely unsure of what she saw. The toy swap happened in a blink of an eye.

"Uh, guys?"

"MUM!" William suddenly screamed and scrambled to his feet.

It shocked Haven enough to do the same, but tackled the boy to the floor and right in front of Tilly, who scooted back to avoid the boy's flailing arms.

"No, Will! No! Don't tell, Tilly help!" Haven shouted, but tried not to do it loud enough to alert the adults.

"Help what? What happened?" Tilly was no longer calm. She was actually confused and a little scared, not sure if she should help Haven, or Will.

"How'd you do that! Get off me! How'd you do that!"

"I don't know!"

Her door suddenly flew open and the mums hurried in.

"What the heck is going on!" Mrs. Green demanded. She wasn't mad, yet. Just confused by the apparent fighting.

Haven got off Will and all three of them scooted away from one another. The mums were immediately suspicious of their strange behavior.

"Well?" Mrs. Clarke demanded.

Will looked behind him at Haven, who's eyes were drawn to his worriedly. He then looked to Tilly, who's eyes went from Haven's to his.

"Tilly?" Mrs. Edwards narrowed her eyes at her daughter.

"Will had Haven's favorite toy and wouldn't give it back,"

Haven bit her lip, fighting a smile at how quickly and casually the blonde covered for her. And she was thankful that Will only nodded and muttered an apology to his mum.

"Haven, I raised you better than that. You can share your favorite toy for a few hours,"

"Yes mum," Haven tossed her lion and it landed in front of Will.

Will made no move to take it.

"Now play nice," The mums leave, but this time the door is left open a crack.

Tilly immediately turns to her. "Haven, what's going on?"

"She made the lion disappear from my hand!" Will cries out.

"Shhh!" Haven hissed at him. "No, I didn't. It's – It's… _impossible_ ,"

After a few moments of thought, William seemed to agree that it was indeed impossible.

Tilly and William both agreed they wouldn't tell anyone about the strange experience, and they soon forgot all about it as they resumed playing. Her friends left a few hours later, leaving Haven with her whirling thoughts.

The Clarkes don't celebrate Halloween. Haven's mum and dad think it's an awful holiday dedicated to the Devil himself. And in turn, everything having to do with it… including magic. No, they don't believe in magic, but if it were out there then it was obviously the work of the Devil. Haven has seen her parents berate street magicians, even going as far as calling them devil worshippers. Haven doesn't know if what happened was magic. Maybe she just spaced out and can't remember grabbing her toy; same as William. And Tilly.

But later that night, a similar thing happened.

The Clarkes were sat around the dining table, eating chicken with broccoli – her least favorite veggie. Haven was already finishing up and was now moving the broccoli around with her fork.

It was just a simple thought. She didn't _mean_ anything by it. All she did was picture the box of cookies that sat upon the refrigerator, waiting for her to finish her veggies so she could dig in. But then, the box appeared in her lap.

Haven gasped, wide-eyed and once again drawing attention to herself.

"Haven, what's wrong?" Her mum asked.

"Uhm, nothing," Haven scooted her chair closer to the table, keeping the box in her lap. "Just hiccups,"

"Drink some water,"

Haven did as suggested, hands shaking with nerves. A thought crossed her mind. Maybe telling her parents wouldn't be a bad thing. They loved her. But what could they even do about this when she doesn't even know what's happening.

"HAVEN LILY CLARKE!" Haven jumped in her seat, accidently knocking the cookies to the floor. She looked up at her mum and into disapproving eyes. "Why do you have those cookies?"

"I – I," She didn't know what to say.

Dad grabbed the box from the floor. "How'd you even get these? We were here the whole time,"

"I – I don't know," Mr. and Mrs. Clarke watched as their daughter's eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled before she crumbled into a crying mess.

"Haven!"

Confused, they were by her side in seconds to comfort her, asking and almost begging her to tell them what was wrong. But she was too far gone for the night to say anything. Haven just wanted to disappear. Go some place to think properly.

" _AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"_

Haven gasped for what felt like the hundredth time. She was no longer being hugged by her mum and dad. In fact, she wasn't even in the dining room. She wasn't even sitting in her chair anymore. She was now sitting cross-legged in the dark, her mum's muffled but loud scream echoing in her ears. Haven stopped crying and wiped her eyes free of tears. She sniffled.

She could tell she was in her closet by the sliver of light from the edges of the door, and her clothes lightly brushing her head.

" _Haven! Haven!"_

" _Haven!"_

She heard her parents running through the house, calling for her. Screaming on the top of their lungs. Her mum was crying and Haven didn't know what to do. She was only six. She wanted her mummy and daddy, but at the same time… Something inside her made her stay hidden.

Of course it wasn't hard to find her hiding spot. A few moments passed before the closet door was thrown opened and her mum and dad stared down at her curled-up body. She cried into her knees with loud sobs, yet neither Mr. Clarke or Mrs. Clarke made a move to hug her.

It felt like forever before her mum spoke in a desperate voice, staring at the girl as if she didn't recognize her.

"What _are_ you?"


	3. The Demon in the Basement

**Chapter Three: The Demon in the Basement**

Professor McGonagall stood on the doorstep of the Weasley family home. Her eyes were saddened with shame. She knocked on the door of the burrow and heard the loud running and screaming of children. She did _not_ want to do this. The Weasley's already had seven children to care for, but she felt she couldn't trust anyone more than this family. She would do this herself, but she would never have the time to give Miss Potter a proper life. She knew that all the Weasley children felt equally loved, and she hoped that could be spread to the girl in her thoughts.

The door swung open to reveal a red-haired girl, who looked to be about eight years of age. "Hi!" She smiled up at the older woman.

"Hello," The professor said, politely smiling down at her.

" _Ginny_ , what did I tell you about opening that door without asking?"

"But mum!"

The girl was ushered away as Mrs. Weasley appeared in front of McGonagall. "Oh! Professor, how nice it is to see you," The woman smiled. "Come in, come in! What a wonderful surprise,"

"Thank you," She entered the cluttered home. "And please, you can call me Minerva,"

"Oh," The woman looked unsure, having been familiar with the professor's strict attitude. "Okay then. Please call me Molly,"

McGonagall nodded, still looking around at the crowded burrow. "Your home is kept up by means of magic?"

"Yes. As our family grew, we added floors. Magic keeps the place from toppling down,"

"How… Nice,"

"Uhm, Professor– I mean, _Minerva_. What can I do for you today?"

McGonagall sighed. "Is your husband home?"

"Not at the moment. He won't be home until dinner time,"

"Well this cannot wait another moment,"

"What can't wait?"

"You know of Harry Potter?"

"Everyone does. He's the boy who lived,"

"Yes, well, this is about his sister,"

"His sister? Her name is Haven, right?"

"Right. As you know, she is less memorable compared to her brother because she was only a witness. But she is no less important,"

"Of course. I agree. Every child is important,"

"Exactly…"

A silence fell between them and Molly could sense there was something wrong.

"Minerva… Is everything okay with the Potter's twins?"

"Do you know what happened after you-know-who was stopped by Harry Potter? Do you know where we took them?"

"N – No," Mrs. Weasley frowned. "We all assumed they were taken somewhere safe,"

"And we thought they were. We took them to Lily's muggle sister, but returned not long after to see how they adjusted to having them thrown into their lives. That's when we discovered they only kept Harry, and sent Haven to an orphanage,"

Molly frowned. "Oh how awful,"

"Not quite," McGonagall sighed and motioned to the dining room table. "May we sit?"

Molly nodded. "Of course,"

Once seated, the professor continued. "She was almost immediately put with a family who adored her. I watched both Harry and Haven for two years to be sure they would be cared for. While Harry's situation is less than ideal with the muggles, he's not in danger,"

"And Haven?"

Molly could see the hurt in the professor's eyes. "For a time, she was loved… They celebrated every birthday; hugged and kissed her every morning and night; read her bedtime stories…" She looked down into the shorter woman's eyes. "Then I stopped going to see her. I thought she was safe,"

"Professor McGonagall…" Molly leaned forward. "What happened to Haven Potter?"

"There are _worse_ muggles than the Dursley's…"

Haven lied on her musty mattress in the humid basement, heated by the hot summer outside. The only light she had came from the small cellar window where she liked watching cars go by or the new neighbors play outside. She lost all hope of her life going back to how it was before her little vanishing act. It took only a few months for her to get used to her new living arrangements… A basement with only a mattress, blanket, and pillow, and a small bathroom in the corner with only a toilet and sink. Every morning they'd wake her up with a yell and set her plate of food down a few feet from her like she was a rabid animal. She'd take her time eating, knowing she would only eat again for dinner.

She was just a kid. She couldn't understand how two people who loved her so much could just turn on her in the darkest ways. And being thrown in a basement wasn't the worst of it… For the first few weeks of Haven screaming at them to love her again, they hurt her. The details are too painful to describe, but the results were the scars on her back and a few on each arm.

It's hard to say how long she's been down there. After a while, the days blur together. She was taller, but somehow seemed thinner. Her black hair now reached the middle of her back in a tangled mess.

It was after a year that Haven entered a dazed routine. She'd wake up for breakfast then spend her day walking around the basement mindlessly or lying on her thin bed, staring up at the concrete ceiling. Once a week, her parents would allow her to take a quick shower and brush her teeth, if only to avoid her getting any disease that could lead to her death. Yet, they lacked any concern for her malnourishment or mental stability. Haven spoke very little, only responding when required. It limited her beatings, but they always found a reason.

It was a summer night that Haven's life would change forever.

She heard loud banging coming from upstairs. Someone was at the front door. She heard the hurried footsteps of her parents, then a loud slam. And a scream.

 _"Who are you! We called the cops!"_ Her dad shouted.

Haven stood from her bed and crept to the bottom of the steps curiously.

 _"I'm sure they'd be int'rested in hearin' abou' that girl in yer basement!"_ She gasped at the loud, booming deep voice of an unfamiliar man.

 _"How-"_

 _"Ye people disgus' me!"_

 _"Who are you!"_

 _"Move outta me way! I'm takin' her away from 'ere!"_

 _"You can't!"_

 _"Ye should be ashamed of yerselves!"_

Haven heard the man's stomping feet coming toward the basement door and she gasped when it was ripped off it's hinges and she stumbled backward onto her bed.

"Fine! Take her! She – She's a demon anyway!" Her mum cried.

Haven coward against the concrete wall as a huge, burly man that resembled a giant came stomping down the stairs slowly. The wood creaked and cracked a little under his weight. She shook in a fear and he stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

He pulled a string linked to the basement lightbulb, but it only flickered before dying. "Oh fer cryin' out loud," He muttered before shuffling around. Haven could only see his shadowy outline. He seemed to pull something from his bulky clothing.

A sudden bright, yellowish-white light temporarily blinded the young girl on her mattress bed.

"Sorry 'bout that. Shoulda warned yeh,"

Haven blinked a few times and squinted as her eyes begun to adjust. She was confused when she saw the scary stranger holding an umbrella with it's tip lit up bright like a flashlight. His voice was softer now. Still deep, but calmer than she heard upstairs.

He knelt on one knee and spoke softly, not approaching her in case he only made her fear him. "Haven? Are yeh Haven?"

She sniffled and nodded.

"My name is Rubeus Hagrid, Haven. An' I came to take yeh away from 'ere,"

She only stared up at him for a few moments.

Hagrid could see the girl still shaking in fear.

"Hey Miss Haven," He spoke kindly. "I know yer mum and dad have been hurtin' you, yeah?"

Her lips quivered and she sniffed again before nodding, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Well I'm here to take you somewhere nicer. Where no one will hurt you. An' I'll 'ave yeh know…" He moved forward slightly, a glint in his eyes. "It's a magical place,"

"B – But mum and dad?" Her voice cracked.

He held in his anger as to not ruin the progress he made. "Haven, did yeh know you were adopted?"

"Adopted?"

"Yes. Yer mum and dad saved yeh from bein' alone…" Hagrid said. It was true. As much as he'd love to put the muggles in their place, for a time they loved the little one. "I'm sure they loved you, I know they did. But somethin' happened a while ago tha' made 'em afraid. Am I right?"

Haven sighed and nodded. "I'm evil,"

Hagrid's heart broke for the girl and he shook his head. "No, Haven. Yeh a wizard,"

"Huh?"

Hagrid felt she was no longer afraid, so stood and walked over to sit by her. She jumped a little in surprise when his weight shift the mattress.

"Can yeh tell me what happened that started this all?"

She drew in a shaky breath, looking up at the man. "It – It started with a girl…"

Haven retold the events from last year and Hagrid listened intently. The gamekeeper had been expecting the story about her unintentional magic, but didn't know about the girl in the mirror or the voice in her head. In the end, Hagrid smiled comfortingly at Haven.

"Yer magic isn' evil. It's only strange to yer mum and dad because they never saw it before. It frightens them,"

"So I'm not a demon?"

"Far from it,"

Haven smiled as she thought about what Hagrid said earlier. "S – So… You're taking me away from them?"

"That's right," He stood up and offered her his hand. "I'm takin' yeh somewhere you won't be hurt,"

Haven placed her small hand in his giant one and he carefully helped her up.

"Are yeh ready, Miss Potter?"

 _Miss Potter._

Haven held onto the love she had left for her parents over the years, but as the giant of a man led her up the stairs and passed her mum and dad's hate-filled eyes, she'd gladly take on her true parent's name. Harry Potter did not come to her mind. After years of abuse, that small detail from her past was nothing to her. But in the days that followed, she'd learn all about her long-lost twin brother.

Hagrid took Haven Potter out of the Clarke home, and the girl couldn't feel more free as she breathed in the fresh air and smiled up at the bright moon. She was excited when he led her to his motorbike and helped her into the sidecar before getting on the bike. It roared to life, making her jump in fear at the sudden loud noise and shaking of the motor.

"Ye be alrigh' Miss Potter," Hagrid chuckled. "Just hang on tight,"

It jerked forward before speeding away down the street. It took a moment for Haven to relax and simply enjoy the ride, trusting her new companion to keep her safe. But then, she noticed the road ahead was getting… lower?

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Haven shrieked.

Hagrid laughed as he begun to speed through the night sky, flying high above the city buildings with Haven sitting in the sidecar, going from terrified to excited as she looked around below her in wonderment.

After a little while, and a sun starting to rise in the distance, Haven looked up at Hagrid. "Uhm, Sir? Where are we going?" She asked as loud as she could manage over the bike's motor.

"Where we goin'?" Hagrid repeated with a smile. "To yer new home!"

"Professor, of course we'll take her in," Mr. Weasley smiled sadly at her after being told of the situation Haven Potter has been in. Then he turns to his wife, who's grasping his hand. "I'm sure we can arrange our budget around the little one, especially with Bill working in Egypt,"

"I wouldn't worry about that," Professor McGonagall interrupts. "I do firmly believe your family can care for her better than anyone else, but I am aware of the financial strain this could cause. So I've arrange for you to receive some help, so this won't become a burden,"

The Weasley's smiled. "That's very much appreciated, Minerva," Mrs. Weasley spoke. "I would be quite dull to refuse the help, but I will stress this," She leaned forward with caring eyes. "We will care for Miss Potter like we would our own. Like another Weasley,"

Professor McGonagall left that night feeling hope that their mistake may be fixed once Haven receives the love she deserves again. She made sure the Weasley's understood what kind of torment Haven needs to heal from then told them Hagrid would be arriving sometime in the early morning.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had called the six children still living with them down to the living room. Once they were all sitting down, it was the eldest, Charlie, who noticed his parent's somber looks as they exchanged glances trying to decide how to go about this.

"Mum, Dad," The seventeen-year-old spoke. "What's wrong?"

Mrs. Weasley turned to her son. "Oh my boy, so much,"

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "We will be welcoming someone into our home," The kids exchanged curious looks with each other. "More than that…" He and Molly held hands with small smiles. "Into our family,"

"Oh no!" The youngest son, Ronald, exclaimed. Mortified.

"Are you having another baby!" Their twin sons cried out.

"No! For heaven's sake!" Mrs. Weasley admonished, scowling at the boys. The she sighed and went on. "Haven Potter, is her name," She waited for the name to sink in.

"Haven… Potter?" Percy, who's thirteen, squinted at the name. Then his eyes widened with the rest of the kids. "You mean Harry Potter's twin sister?"

They nodded.

"She's coming _here_!" Ron shouted. "But why? How?"

Sparing the dark details, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley told them of the circumstances leading to Haven needing a home. The two eldest boys seemed to grasp what their parents were saying better than their siblings, if their saddened looks said anything. The other boys, and their only daughter, appeared quite saddened too when they were told that Haven had been "hurt" by her adoptive parents and would probably be frightened at first.

After telling eight-year-old Ginny she'd be sharing her room for the time being, the kids were sent to bed and would be woken the next morning by the arrival of Hagrid and Haven.


	4. The Love of a Weasley

**Chapter Four: The Love of a Weasley**

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

The Weasley family jumped, startled by the loud knocking at their front door.

"What was that!" Ron gasped.

Mrs. Weasley merely waved a dismissive hand while her and her husband stood to get the door.

"That would be Hagrid," Grinned Charlie, Percy and the twins sharing amused looks, having met the half-giant.

 _"Ahh, Hagrid. So nice to see you,"_ They heard their dad greet the man.

 _"And you must be Miss Potter,"_

 _"Y – Yes… Haven, ma'am,"_

At the door of the Weasley's Burrow, Haven respectfully shook the hands of the two adults in front of her.

"Oh sweetie," Mrs. Weasley reached out to touch the girl's hair, but stopped when she flinched back. She knew almost everything the girl had been put through in the last three years, but nothing could have prepared her for the visibly damaged girl before her now. She had to fight her tears at seeing her. Her hair was a ratted mess, and her face was smudged with dirt; she wore a long-sleeved nightgown that was stained from years of neglect. Her cheeks were sunken in, she was sickly pale, and unhealthily thin. Mrs. Weasley wanted to hug her tight and tell her everything would be okay now, but she smiled sweetly instead. "You're so small. How old are you now?"

"Nine,"

"Ah, yes," Arthur Weasley nodded. "The same age as our youngest boy, Ronald,"

"Please! Come in, we'll have breakfast ready soon," Mrs. Weasley steeped aside and waved them in. "You too, Hagrid. I'm sure it's been a long night for the two of you,"

"Thank yeh, Molly," Hagrid smiled, gently ushering Haven forward.

"Let me introduce you to our children,"

Arthur led them to the living room, where their kids were now standing in wait to greet the semi-famous twin of the infamous Harry Potter. For a split second, they thought their children would be on their best, polite behavior. After all, they had warned them that she hadn't been cared for properly.

Then Ron spoke… "Woah, you look awful! OW!" Charlie smacked him hard upside his head.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley! Another peep from you and you'll be grounded until you graduate Hogwarts!"

He gulped. "Sorry, Mum,"

The damage was done, however. Haven hugged herself and kept her eyes on the ground as her lips quivered and tears fell from her eyes, feeling like a disgusting being. _An evil one._ Too gross to even look at. It was Ginny who, unknowingly, saved Haven from the dark rabbit hole she was starting to spiral down in. The small redhead walked up to her placed her hands on the shaking girl's shoulders, her face sympathetic.

"Oh don't cry," She spoke softly. "My brother's just an idiot, don't mind him,"

Sniffling, her head still hanging in shame, her eyes just barely look up at her. The younger girl bent down to better see her. Her parents' hearts swelled with pride that they raised such a sweet girl.

"I'm Ginny," She smiled. "Come on, I'll show you to our room and we can wash up for breakfast," She took Haven's hand without much thought to if the other girl minded.

Unsure of herself, Haven casts a glance to Hagrid.

The burly man smiles down at her. "Go on, yeh will be fine,"

Haven sat stiffly in front of the younger girl, who was behind her with a hairbrush. Ginny was gentle with Haven as she brushed her knotted hair, recalling her mum's warning about being delicate with her. She compared it to caring for her dolls, and she loved being caring.

"Your hair is so long," She spoke suddenly, making Haven jump once again. She felt on edge. She was subconsciously waiting to wake up, and every sudden sound frightened her. "Have you ever cut it?"

She shook her head.

After Ginny had shown Haven the room they'd now be sharing, she showed her to the bathroom where she gave her some toiletries and taught her how the shower worked. She placed one of her own outfits by the sink for her before leaving her to it. Being only eight, she didn't think Haven _needed_ more instruction. She just told her to wash up and get dressed, then meet her back in her room. It had taken Haven ten minutes before she even moved. It felt odd not having her mum or dad screaming orders at her, so it took her awhile to build the courage to move on her own. Such a ridiculous thing to need courage for…

Now dressed in a jean shorts and a pink shirt, she allowed Ginny to brush her thick locks.

"Well," Ginny finished brushing her hair and grabbed a hairband. "We'll tie your hair back a little to keep it out of the way," She went ahead and pulled some back and tied it into a loose ponytail that hung low behind her, just so her hair was more controllable. "There," She smiled and stood up, Haven following suit. "Look,"

Haven was pulled in front of a mirror and her mouth opened slightly in horrified shock. Tears sprang to her eyes and her lips quivered. The last time she looked into a mirror, she was a happy little girl with a full, healthy face and a young body of an active six-year-old. But this girl… Was a pathetic disgrace.

"Oh no, don't cry," Ginny gasped, seeing the older girl starting to shake and crumble making her own eyes water at how sad she looked.

Haven slid to the ground in front of the mirror and hugged her knees as she sobbed.

Still too young, Ginny went to the only person she knew would know what to do. "Mum!" She cried, running out of the room.

Haven kept crying, in her own dark world. Even the appearance of Mrs. Weasley didn't pull her out of the darkness. The short, slightly plump woman had knelt beside her and pulled her into a warm hug, and even that physical contact didn't budge her. She was resolved to stay crying until she couldn't anymore, but somewhere in her subconscious, the feeling of loving arms wrapped around her was a welcomed one.

The time ticked by, but Mrs. Weasley wasn't bothered. She was patient while the girl's crying slowly dissipated until she was simply sniffling.

"There, there, little one," Mrs. Weasley spoke softly. "You'll be safe from now on. I promise,"

Haven pulled away and wiped her tears. "I'm ugly…"

"What?" Mrs. Weasley huffed.

Haven pointed to the mirror. "I saw," She sniffled and stared at the ground. "I'm too gross to look at,"

"Hey, look at me," Mrs. Weasley put a gentle finger under her chin and forced her to look. "You are beautiful, do you hear me?"

Haven frowned and looked away, but was forced back.

"Who you were with before, they didn't take care of you properly. You're undernourished, is all. Once you start eating three meals a day, you'll be better,"

"Three meals?" Haven looked up at her, lip jutted out.

Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Of course," She stood and offered her hand. "Now how about some breakfast?"

She wiped her tears from her face before taking the hand.

Now at the Weasley's dining room table, Haven looked at the food in amazement. There were piles of biscuits, large bowls of scrambled eggs, plates of bacon, sausage links, and French toast, and pitchers of orange juice and milk.

"Don't jus' stare at it, Haven," Hagrid laughed. "Dig in! Have as much as yeh want,"

The adults were thrilled when a bright smile spread on her face for the first time.

Haven grabbed a plate and started piling it high with all the food. Mrs. Weasley, who was seated beside her, took it upon her to get the girl a glass of orange juice while she started shoveling food into her mouth.

Ron, across from her, watched while also shoving his mouth full of food. The whole family, and Hagrid, begun eating too and talking idly to each other. Only half done with the plate she got for herself, Haven leaned back in her seat as she finished her second glass of orange juice. She hadn't eaten nearly as much as the others, but it was probably three times as much food as she was used to eating.

Ron swallowed his food with a gulp. "Bloody Hell, she eats like me,"

"Ron, language," Mrs. Weasley scolded him, but no one could help the laughter that followed.

"And I'm going to be in Gryffindor, just like our whole family. Well, there's a few that aren't… but that's very few!"

Ron Weasley excitedly explained, after rambling to the new girl in the house about Hogwarts. "You're gonna love it, oh man! I can't wait 'til you discover what magic can do for you," He smiled wide at her.

"But magic should _not_ be used willy-nilly," Mr. Weasley spoke up from his recliner, looking at his newspaper.

"Riigght," Ron smiled and winked at her.

Haven smiled, something she's been getting used to.

"Everyone starts at Hogwarts when they're about eleven, so we have about two years before then,"

"And until then…" Ginny sighed. "Our mum teaches us,"

"So get ready for homeschooling," Ron said sympathetically.

 _School_ … "I haven't been in school for a long time,"

This time, it was Ron and Ginny who jumped a little. They haven't heard a peep from the girl since she greeted their parents at the door.

"Wow…" Ron pouted. "Lucky,"

Haven shrugged. "I didn't like the kids at school, but I liked to learn," She looked up at them. "I do miss my friends from church, though,"

"When did you last see them?" Ginny asked innocently.

This made Haven fall quiet, and she once again hugged her knees defensively. Recognizing the move, Ron and Ginny left her alone.

Hagrid had left not long after breakfast and promised to check in every now and then. Haven spent her first day with the Weasley's trying to get to know her. She found she quite enjoyed Percy's company, as he was the quieter one and Haven wasn't much of a talker these days. She did like the others, as well. Just in different ways. She found the twins' pranks amusing, and Charlie's experience at Hogwarts interesting. She liked hearing Ron's excitement about Hogwarts and Ginny was great at making her feel at least somewhat normal with her "girl talk."

Mr. Weasley was nice. He made sure she was doing okay and talked to her about what she may need in the future. They'd get her a proper bed and arrange Ginny's room to be half hers as well; they'd have to go to the shops for decorations. She had shyly told him she didn't want to be a bother, but he wouldn't hear of it because she was the farthest thing from a bother.

Mrs. Weasley was kind and full of love. She made sure all her kids were fed and behaving themselves. And at the end of the day, she made sure they were all washed up, teeth brushed, and tucked into bed.

Small for her age, Haven fit perfectly into Ginny's clothes. So she let her go through her pajamas and pick out her favorite. Haven chosen green pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt, to keep the scars on her arms covered.

Haven and Ginny slid into the redhead's bed an got comfortable.

"Good night, girls," Mrs. Weasley shut the light off and pulled the door shut.

Haven breathed and sunk into Ginny's soft bed, relaxing into the warm feeling. She had finally bathed, and her teeth were minty fresh. She wasn't sticky with sweat from a humid basement and her stomach didn't growl with hunger.

Ginny rolled over, and Haven looked to see the girl's eyes watching her. "Good night, Haven," She whispered.

Haven closed her eyes and breathed evenly. "Good night, Ginny,"


End file.
